


All in A Day

by Silential



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Body Worship, Hand Feeding, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Roleplay, Spanking, Sub Hux, collar Hux, courtesan roleplay, kink prompt fills, small dick Hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-07-10 18:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6998770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silential/pseuds/Silential
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble/minific fills for kink prompts. Each chapter title gives the pairing and kink for that chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hux/Kylo - jealousy

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me - and prompt me - at somethingstately on Tumblr!

The barb, proverbial but no less painful, sliced cleanly into his chest, hooking somewhere behind his ribs. It burned – upon entry, upon lodging, with the insistent, green-tinged tug that came of a bolt of envy. Kylo had taken a bowcaster shot to the side, and even he was hardpressed to say which one tore up his insides more. 

_How banal. How pedestrian._

Kylo didn’t have to think these things himself; Hux was already giving shape to the thoughts, for once not directed towards himself as much as they might have fit at the moment. The other man, a lieutenant, was currently forced to his knees, chin held tightly between the dexterous fingers of his General. The black leather stood out like a char-mark against the other's skin, with tips worn smooth and supple by age. Kylo stood behind, another layer of power, but it was a reinforcement that was more for show than anything else. The man had failed, not for the first time, and Hux – gaze bright and brimming and trained solely upon the man before him – had already decided upon an appropriate punishment were it not met the moment he had given voice to the assignment.

Gamma shift meant a nightmare that awaited this fellow, time spent acquainted with boots and leather and the harsh clean lines of bindings only a military man would appreciate. The right amount of tension held in the cord wrapped around the base of his balls, running up the cleft of his ass. Precision in everything; it was a mantra Hux did not spare his enemies, nor his conquests. 

The fact that Kylo had lay awake in bed to the plan for the past two months, hand slipping along his cock with the hope of being the one on his knees –

Well. There was only one Force sensitive stationed on the Finalizer. No one else had to know.


	2. Matt/Techie - spanking

This wasn’t something one picked up in the study of engineering.

As far as Matt knew, this wasn’t something one picked up anywhere, except by diving headfirst and doing. The rustling of fabric, rough against his thighs, melded with the sharp cries and soft moans lifting from the man bent over his lap. The sea of yellow currently swamping what he could see of his own uniform was broken up only by the curtain of red hair and expanse of pale skin, reddened from the force of his hand. Techie's ass, soft curve quivering with every resounding slap, tightened as Matt ran his hand reverently along the inflamed flesh, squeezing and digging into the muscle below. The hard line of his lover's cock rutted against his thigh, the two layers of fabric deliciously unsatisfying compared to bared, smooth skin. 

He was doing this.

_Him._

The next blow fell, and the next, his palm smarting as the flesh bearing the brunt of his ministrations flushed so prettily. Matt couldn’t tear his gaze away, even with the slight shuffling of the body across his lap and the neck that trained an otherworldly gaze upon his own. So wide and so dark.

So trusting.

“Had enough?” Matt whispered, fingers caressing the soft, heated skin beneath his palm. The answering shiver almost provoked one of his own.

The shake of his partner’s head came immediately, hair tickling Matt’s knees.

He raised his hand again.


	3. Matt/Techie - courtesan

The request had slipped out, mumbled and muted and already apologizing for its existence the moment it hit the air. Matt had pulled away from his lover’s neck, the slender column of his throat already beginning to dot purple and red where his teeth and lips had worshipped. Blinking, his brain had stuttered to catch up, to process the words that had a flush cresting high on Techie’s cheeks.

But caught up, it had, and the deal was struck, fantasy unpacked and arranged into the details that made up the tableau before Matt now.

Hair secured at the nape of his neck, a stray lock not quite long enough to make it hung over his left cheek. The ends wisped over Matt’s inner thigh, tracing shapes, the sensation grounding him as the muffled moans and slow bob of Techie’s head over his cock had Matt quickly spiraling. Matt burned to sink his fingers into the glossy red strands, tousling and pulling them from their confines, but the earlier smile and flutter of downcast lashes, coy in a way Matt hadn’t known Techie could be, kept his hands rooted to their grip at the edge of the bed.

_Don’t you want to see my pretty face?_

Only the slight tremor on the last word, the barely-stilled quake to his hand, belied how important the answer was.

“You’re worth every credit,” Matt groaned, spreading his thighs wider to give Techie access to his balls, heavy and aching against the smooth sheets. “If you swallow, I’ll raise my payment to ten thousand.”

His answer came in the way of a choked gasp, a moan Matt felt as much as he heard, and the momentary hiding of those too-large irises as Techie’s eyes slammed shut.

Beautiful, he’d said. He wanted to feel beautiful, and sought after – a single night with his mouth and hands worth an extravagant price.

The fact that he already _was_ – Matt thought, resolve caving as he caressed and cupped one soft cheek, hollowed as full lips slid down his length – was rather beside the point.


	4. Matt/Techie -soulbond/soul-mates

“Your eyes match. Why do your eyes still match?”

Matt grimaced, his heart feeling like it was being pulled through a sieve with the pain on Techie’s face. “Maybe it no longer applies?”

“How could it no longer apply? I _love_ you,” Techie fired back, the statement landing heavily between Matt’s ribs.

He rubbed at his side without thinking, wondering how it was that his boyfriend, normally so quiet and unassuming, could get so riled up on his account. Matt had never doubted the two of them, the odd couple of odd couples, but to know Techie had harbored his growing frustration in secret was enough to make Matt regret his apparent emotional tone-deafness.

Grimace still twisting his lips, Matt gestured vaguely to his own eyes, supplying, “You know… because.”

“Because I don’t have mine.” The words dropped like stones.

Grabbing Techie’s hand, Matt squeezed, willing his thoughts, Force-blind though he was, to travel across the space separating them. “There isn’t a single other explanation I can come up with. You are the one for me.”


	5. Matt/Techie - body worship

It was damaged.

It, being a body; it, being _his_ body. _He_ was damaged, he forced himself to think, abandoning his usual distance and holding the concept in his mind like one might hold the plasma beam of a lightsaber between their hands. The thought charred and razed away each time, much like said plasma beam, but he forced himself to recapture it again and again. Given that it was the truth, it was the least he could do. It seared his insides, and he didn’t need a mirror to catalog every imperfection, every failure, as seen through his lover’s eyes.

The hollowness to his cheeks. The myriad of scars on his torso from a teasing knife. 

Maker above, his  _eyes_. Or rather, the lack of them, preternaturally large and lined with rust. Techie squeezed them shut, wanting to hide that, if nothing else. 

Only Matt didn’t seem to see any of that.

He lay on his back, divested of shirt and slacks and underlayer, pale skin riddled with the scars of a brutal life. Pale skin against paler cicatrized testament, each centimeter coming to life beneath the fire of Matt’s kiss, crawling slowly upwards as if to undo the various ways in which time had ravaged his body.

When Matt reached his mouth, the brush of stubble against his own skin, always freshly shaved, the body that held and was the _Tech_ shivered, feeling more alive than he ever had before. 

Matt’s kiss, yes, but _his_ body. 


	6. Hux/Kylo - collars and sub Hux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sub Hux with collars and small dick Hux.

He revels in the way it squeezes lightly at his throat, not enough to choke but tight enough he can never forget it’s there. His high collar hides the thin band of leather, buckle lying in the hollow under his Adam’s apple. If he’s not careful he finds his hand unconsciously straying to it, on the bridge or in the corridor, three slim fingers resting against the black starched fabric. Fingertips kiss the rise of buckle he can just feel underneath.  

In public he writes the motion off as a scratch, a subtle readjustment.

It never leaves his throat, not since the night gloved fingers clicked it into place. He bathes with it, sleeps with it, and, most importantly, _fucks_ with it.

He can feel it when he argues with Kylo on the bridge, knows without needing to see the other man’s eyes how they lock onto the place they both know the buckle lies. It feels even better, he thinks, to trade barbs with the man knowing he’ll pay for his words later that night, in broken pleas to _fuck me, sir, please fuck me_ falling like a litany from his lips until Kylo took pity. Kylo usually demanded the repayment of respect in full, and then some.

If it’s enough to make Hux a tad more vicious than he needs to be in his takedown of Kylo’s strategy, well it’s hard to blame him.

It’s the first place Kylo deigns to touch him when he’s on his knees, hands behind his back, right hand gripping left wrist. Bare in the hot air of Kylo’s quarters, cock half-hard as Hux takes in the feel of the floor under his knees, the knowledge that his cheek will probably be pressed to it at some point. Kylo tugs slightly, pinches the leather and Hux’s breath hitches in his throat. Kylo could tug it tighter, cut off his air and leave him a gasping mess – but he doesn’t. The tension remains though.

“You were rude today.”

Only one answer is ever appropriate. “Yes, sir.”

“Very rude.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I should cage you for it. Keep the key around my neck so you can’t touch your pathetic excuse for a cock again.” Kylo’s voice is low, deceptive and girded with steel. His words crack harder than a backhand when he wants them to. “You might be more civil when you’re aching for release.”

Hux swallows thickly. He already needed Kylo’s permission to come. A physical barrier, one he couldn’t remove himself – the thought has his cock thickening, warmth suffusing his lower half. The sudden urge to cover himself almost moves his hand; he knows he’s pathetic, and his words sound just as much so, “Please don’t, sir. I,” he takes in a breath, head suddenly swimming, “I can make it up to you.”

“Oh you will.”

Gloved fingers release the collar and smooth it down, slipping from supple leather to the soft pale skin underneath. He’s petting him, Hux realizes, whispering against the back of his neck. It would be almost comforting, if his nerves weren’t so keyed up, the anticipation building like a hot spring somewhere low in his stomach.

“You will.”

And then it comes.

Kylo’s fingers bury themselves into Hux’s hair, wrenching his neck backwards and his head up to face him. Tears almost prick his eyes, the grip is so tight, but it dances just shy of truly painful. The fine line between the two teases at his dick, though. He can feel it jutting forward between his thighs, fully hard. Its presence, as much as it has, doesn’t escape Kylo either, and he stoops a little to put his face closer, hot breath ghosting over Hux’s lips.

Hux imagines it’s the closest to a kiss he’ll get tonight.

“Look at you. So ready for punishment. And you love the idea of me caging you, don’t you,” Kylo punctuates the comment with a tug on his hair. Hux’s gasp slides into a moan as the pressure subsides. “I would get you so hard and you’d be so helpless. Trying to touch, trying to rut against anything to give you friction.”

Hux squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt that level of desperation.

He wants to.  

Kylo glances downward, and Hux doesn’t need to follow to know what he’s looking at. Kylo, when he felt like touching Hux at all, would always make a point of wrapping his full hand around him, palm swallowing his length and then some so easily. With or without words, it didn’t matter. They both knew, and shame tightens around his throat far tighter than any collar. It slips into his stomach, trickles hot and slick.

Now Kylo takes in the flushed head, clear bead of fluid just welling at the tip – he grins, a smug baring of teeth.

“I wouldn’t even need a big cage.”

Hux’s throat bobs as he swallows. He feels the buckle of the collar rub against it. “No, sir.”


	7. Matt/Techie - hand feeding kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techie (and Matt) have a hand-feeding kink.

Matt didn’t often like giving. It wasn’t in his nature, and it smacked of the too-personal.

But it’s the way Techie leans, he’ll think after. Eyes tracking in precise detail the way Matt rolls the small sphere between his thumb and forefinger. The slight opening of his mouth, waiting and willing to be filled, the question he isn’t asking.

But Matt is hearing it all the same, buzzing loud and clear in his brain. Sometimes he really does question whether his lover is one of them, one of the lucky few like Lord Ren, or maybe they really are just that in tune.

A here, try this and the automatic raise of his arm, bypassing his brain to offer the bit of fruit to parted, waiting lips. The world slows, contracts to a pinpoint. To the brush of tongue, wet and slippery soft against his thumb, the fluttering of translucent eyelashes against pale skin. The low moan of delight that hits him somewhere lower than his stomach.

He watches as those eyes open, watches as the pink tip of a tongue he spends a good chunk of his day dwelling on darts out to swipe away the last delicate red drop of juice. It smears against his lips. It’s a look Matt has seen before in a much different light, chin resting on his thigh, hair fanned out over his abdomen.

Red-tinged smile, lifting just one side, and by the Maker if it didn’t make Techie look like more otherworldly than he already did. A low chuckle, half-nervous, and the way his gaze flicks up to meet Matt’s own before shyly slipping away again has Matt wanting to kiss the remains of the cherry away. Food isn’t food with Techie, not when he’d spent half his life without enough of it.

“Delicious.”

Matt swallows. “Yeah. It is.”

Techie doesn’t look at you when he wants something. Matt knows he wants something.

He plucks another cherry from the bowl, his hand trembling just the slightest bit. If he thinks too much about that tongue against his thumb, it won’t just be his thumb he’ll think about.

“Want another?”

Techie nods, and he leans, and it’s the low, breathy “Please” that has Matt making a mental note to drop by the commissary the next chance he gets.

Matt may not like giving, but he likes this.


End file.
